an recklessly into the cavern. But the place was dark as Erebus,
and the ground was so rugged that she tripped and fell before she had
advanced into it more than fifty yards.

Bruised by the fall, and overawed by the gloom of her situation, the
poor girl lay still for some time where she had fallen, with bated
breath, and listening intently; but no sound struck her ear save the
beating of her own heart, which appeared to her unnaturally loud. Under
an impulse of terror, she rose, and ran back into the open air.

Here it occurred to her that she might perhaps find the other outlet to
the cave,--supposing that one really existed,--by going round the hill
and carefully examining the ground on the other side. This, however, was
a matter requiring considerable time, and it was not until a full hour
had expired that she returned to the mouth of the cave, and sat down to
rest and consider what should be done next.

To enter the dark recesses of the place without a light she knew would
be impossible as well as useless, and she had no means of procuring a
light. Besides, even if she had, what good could come of her
exploration? The next impulse was to hasten back to the settlement at
full speed and guide a party to the place; but, was it likely that the
savage would remain long in the cave? This question suggested her former
idea of the possible existence of another outlet; and as she thought
upon Alice being now utterly beyond her reach, she covered her face with
her hands and burst into tears. After a short time she began to pray.
Then, as the minutes flew past, and her hopes sank lower and lower, she
commenced--like many a child of Adam who thinks himself considerably
wiser than a black girl--to murmur at her hard lot. This she did in an
audible voice, having become forgetful of, as well as indifferent to,
the chances of discovery.

"Oh! w'at for was me born?" she inquired, somewhat viciously; and not
being able, apparently, to answer this question, she proceeded to
comment in a wildly sarcastic tone on the impropriety of her having been
brought into existence at all.

"Me should be dead. Wat's de use o'life w'en ums nothin' to live for?
Alice gone! Darling Alice! Oh, dear! Me wish I wasn't never had been
born; yes, me do! Don't care for meself! Wouldn't give nuffin for
meself! Only fit to tend Missy Alice! Not fit for nuffin else. And now
Alice gone--whar' to' nobody nose an' nobody care, 'xcept Poopy, who's
not worth a